Blood And Sacrifice
by Narcissa's Dragon
Summary: Bellatrix gives Draco a late birthday gift. They both get lost in memory. This is not your grandma's fan fiction, witches and wizards. Rated M for mature themes, blood, drugs, rape. Read and review.


The summer sun beat down relentlessly on the two figures dueling in the courtyard of Malfoy Manor. No rain had fallen in quite some time and the once lush grass had turned brown and brittle. The peacocks that roamed the grounds had since found solace in the shade and their haunting song echoed through the oppressive heat.

They circled each other, trying to find the weakness that would allow an end to that day's practice.

"CRUCIO!" Bellatrix yelled and pointed her wand at her nephew.

Draco raised his wand to defend. The curse was deflected, but still glanced off his shoulder and knocked him onto his back.

"No no no! Higher!" She yelled. "You've got to hold your wand higher!"

Draco lay breathless in the grass, attempting to get his bearings. His eyes were closed, when he heard the door to the manor open.

"Are you using Unforgivables on my son?!" His mother yelled, almost running toward his aunt. "What on earth are you thinking?!"

Draco sat up in time to see his mother engage Bellatrix.

"I'm thinking his enemies won't be half as lenient as I am."

Narcissa paused. The look on her face was one of defeat.

"I'm fine, mother." Draco said, slowly standing. "I should have held my wand higher."

Narcissa took a deep breath and looked toward the manor.

"Your grandmother has sent you a late birthday gift."

Bellatrix looked at her sister.

"Birthday?" She asked.

Narcissa glared at Bellatrix.

"Yes, sister," she spat, "Your nephew has had a birthday. With all the curses, it's a wonder you haven't killed him, much less remembered a gift."

"Mother, stop. You know I must practice." He said, picking up his wand where it lay in the gravel.

"Let's stop for today." Bellatrix said suddenly. "I have something for you. Clean up and come to my room."

Draco tucked his wand away and looked at his mother. She nodded in consent.

"The package from your grandmother is in the drawing room." Narcissa said as Draco walked toward the Manor.

"What do you have planned?" Narcissa asked Bellatrix.

Bellatrix looked back at her sister.

"I have no idea," was all she said.

Draco made his way up to his aunt's quarters and knocked on the door. Muffled music floated through the wood and his aunt bade him enter. When the door opened, the music almost swallowed him. She was sitting on the bed, smoking a rolled cigarette.

"Come and sit." She said, patting the space next to her.

"What is this?" Draco asked, sitting cross-legged on his aunt's bed, listening to the song whose dream like melody issued forth in waves from the muggle speaker.

Bellatrix leaned back against the headboard, a thick whisp of smoke curling in kaleidoscopic designs around the unruly locks that crowned her head.

"Pink Floyd." She rasped and slightly coughed. Bellatrix Lestrange passed the rolled cigarette to her sister's son. Goddess only knew what was wrapped up inside, but she had missed his birthday and she wanted to share this.

"Where did you hear muggle music?" Draco asked, toking on the gift.

"I've been around." She leaned over and took back the frankenstein concoction of smoke. She took a long draw and gave it back.

Draco put it to his lips and gave it another go. As he blew the smoke into the room, he began coughing.

After he caught his breath, he simply said. "What is this song?"

Bella took back the joint and took another lungful. She held it for a few seconds and blew out, coating the air with mind altering fog. Her eyes were closed when she answered.

"Hey You."

Draco leaned over and gently took the smoking gun. He moved to put it to his lips but stopped halfway up.

"I like it." He said, then sucked in deep. This time, he kept from choking.

"Good." Bella said, simply.

It was true what her sister had said. Bellatrix didn't know the boy. For the last year of her life, while he wasn't in school, she was more interested in teaching him spells and curses. He had always been a ready pupil. She taught him to block his mind from intrusion, but no time spent on actually finding out what kind of man he was. She wondered what he was like growing up, while she was in Azkaban. She wondered how different he would be if she hadn't gone. She wondered how different she would have been. Now though, in the smoke filled haze of her bedroom, they shared mostly silence.

"Should we open a window?" He finally asked, looking around the smoky room.

Bella looked sideways at him and laughed.

"You should probably hit that again." Pointing toward the fix-all. He was just learning, after all.

He looked down at the left handed cigarette and mechanically brought it to his mouth.

"Well done." She said as he blew out a mouthful of smoke and handed it to her.

As she inhaled deeply, her mind filtered back to her first night in her prison hell. In addition to the Dementors that roamed the halls, there were wizard jailors. These were not normal wizards. These were things from the pits who charmed and altered and sucked out their own humanity to deal with the Dementors every day. They, in essence, became much more terrifying. A Patronus could only be used for so long, and it was the jailors and not the Ministry what kept those creatures at bay.

That night she received her tattoo. Ninety-three. A number that would be forever etched on her soul. She fought and kicked and screamed, as they strapped her to an examination table, never speaking, intent at the task at hand. The cold light burned bright in her eyes.

"HE WILL RISE AGAIN!" She screamed, thrashing against her restraints. The jailors that brought her in, silently walked out the steel door. It slammed an echo into her mind. Silence reigned supreme as Bellatrix tried unsuccessfully to break free. After a few minutes in the room alone, the metal door creaked open.

"The Inanimis". That was the name the inmates gave him. He stood at the doorway observing, wrapped in a long black cloak. A dark metallic mask covered half his face, hiding whatever sickness was behind. Bellatrix looked up and began thrashing anew. The Inanimis walked slowly to the side of the table. When she looked up into his face, her heart stopped for a moment. His left eye was a stunning blue, but his right eye, the eye behind the mask was the color of pitch. A seeming black hole where light would dare not escape. She could not stop looking into the void, while his blue eye scanned her body. He traced the outline of the numbers etched into her neck. She winced at the pain, and he smiled. The Inanimis leaned over her and grasped her face. His black eye pulsed with an audible hum, and she gazed, caught in a hellish nightmare. His nightmare.

In his dream, the surroundings shifted. Carved monoliths rose out of the ground, trees sprung up and the full moon shone brightly down. Torches burned brightly in the stone circle. An altar lay in the middle, and a woman heavy with child was in the midst of giving birth. Then, Bellatrix became the woman. She saw everything through the woman's eyes. She felt the pains of labor and the fear that reverberated into the night sky as Dementors circled lazily above. The woman/Bellatrix began screaming, the throes of labor almost a side thought to what was happening around her. Bellatrix looked through the pain filled haze, and saw a cowled and cloaked figure waiting before her. Waiting for the babe. Just then, another hooded figure came running toward the light.

"Tom, they're here! They've found us!" The man said breathlessly. "We must leave now!"

The Dementors swooped down with a sickening suck and Bellatrix felt the woman's soul torn from her. The woman was dead and still Bellatrix felt. The man bent forward, reached inside and ripped the babe from her womb. Sticky sweet blood and gelatinous afterbirth spilled onto the alter. He came forward and presented the newborn to her. The babe's blue eye looked on, but its cold black eye hungered for pain and starved for hopelessness. Then the cowled man and the babe rushed off into the night. She screamed so loud and long her voice left. Then, the nightmare began to fade. The stones became white walls and the altar melted into an examination table once again.

The Inanimis shoved his cold hard cock inside her then, but she could not scream. Not anymore. The inhuman rasp that issued forth, came from the place where she had just experienced the birth of this demon. She felt his rage and sickness. She felt the soreness of his entrance into the world, within her. He rutted her, dry and aching, into insanity. It didn't matter then what kind of person she was. Whether she was bad or good, The Inanimis took it all. Before it was over, she managed to conjure the image of her sister. Narcissa was the last piece of light she might cling to, and when he finally spent himself inside her, the Dementors came in and took that.

"BELLA!" Draco jumped and wrapped his arms around her. Her seizure had come from seemingly nowhere. Seconds later, she had calmed and was breathing heavily.

"Are you alright?" He asked his aunt.

"I'm fine." She whispered. "Just… don't move."

Draco settled back on the headboard with his arms still around her. He wondered at the enigma of this new kin. His mother's sister. His aunt. He wondered what his life might have been like, had she not gone to Azkaban. He found old pictures when he learned she had broken out, and as he gazed on, his mother had knelt beside him.

"I was so young once." She whispered as she looked down.

It was a photo of his teenage mother and her two sisters. Andromeda was off to the side, while his mother and his aunt were perched on a tombstone together. Quick as a blink, Bellatrix leaned over and pecked Narcissa on the cheek. Both girls silently giggled.

"Did you miss her?" Draco asked.

His mother took a deep breath and sat full down, her dress tucked neatly underneath her.

"Very much." Narcissa answered.

Draco looked back down at the photo.

"What was she like?"

"She was incorrigible." His mother smiled. "Completely uncontrollable."

Draco turned to face her.

"Kind of like me, then." He grinned.

"A bit, I suppose. She had more of a sadistic side I think." His mother said grasping his chin. His blue eyes danced as she gazed into them. Narcissa scrutinized her son before she continued. "Though… you are much more handsome."

Draco looked down at the resting form of his Aunt Bellatrix. His thoughts drifted back to this last years spent with her. She was brilliant. She was powerful and quick and he remembered he wanted to be as good. Wanted to be as brilliant. He became passable, and then went further. She seemed proud of him. She never said much though, unless she was talking to herself. He spent that first summer an apt pupil then went back to school for his fifth year. At the end of the school year, his father, his Aunt Bellatrix and a few of the other death eaters did something horribly wrong at the Department of Mysteries. After coming home for summer holiday, The Dark Lord had summoned him. They woke him from sleep and dragged him half naked in his pajama bottoms through the manor, dropping him ungraciously at the feet of Lord Voldemort. Draco looked up and began to rise when he saw his mother and father. Narcissa wept and Lucius looked away.

"Draco Malfoy." The Dark Lord hissed.

Draco rose and bowed, gooseflesh popping up on his arms and bare chest.

"M...My Lord." He swallowed, trying to calm his breathing.

Lord Voldemort began a slow circle around him. Draco stood, unmoving, as he stopped at the boy's back.

"Glad to see you could join us this evening." He whispered, hot rancid breath tickling the soft blonde hairs below Draco's hairline. "Please," shooting a hand out in front and the young Malfoy jumped, "Come sit...with us."

A table appeared before them ladened heavily with all sorts of savory things. Cakes and meats. Bread and wine. The horn of death and plenty came to dine at the Manor this eve.

With no idea what was wrong, only that something was very much indeed, he slowly took a seat.

"Come Narcissa...Lucius. Join us. We have so much to discuss." Voldemort smiled snakelike and waved his clawed hand.

Haggard Lucius ushered his wife forward. The handkerchief she grasped tightly in her hand was to be her only defense. They sat as directed, opposite each other.

"Wonderful!" The Dark Lord stated, clapping his hands once together. "Eat." He said, motioning to the bounty before them.

"I…I'm not...so very hungry, my Lord." Draco stuttered.

"I SAID EAT!" Voldemort screamed slamming his fists on the table jarring the pristine silver.

The three jumped and moved to laden their plates with unwanted morsels.

"Very good." He said, sitting in the empty chair on the end.

Draco lifted a bite of roast chicken to his mouth and began to chew slowly, looking at his plate the whole while.

"Now," The Dark Lord began, "I think your father will tell you why you are here."

Lucius quietly choked.

"Lucius." He smiled. "As we discussed."

Lucius looked at his son, red eyes telling a tale of anguish. Draco's eyes rose to his father. The saw dust chicken, threatening to choke him proper.

The Dark Lord leaned forward and smiled at Draco.

"Drink!" He said excitedly motioning to Draco's cup. "Oh!" Alarm creeping in. "You have none. Allow me." He said filling Draco's cup with wine. "Now..." He said almost bowing, then taking his seat. "Your father has some things to say, I'd like for you to hear."

Draco, with shaking hand, reached for his glass and took a long gulp. The ball of half chewed chicken, a bitter, choking pill to swallow all this with. Lucius hadn't made a sound yet, though his eyes told tales of torture… of desperation. Draco's father, found himself teetering on the edge, where one balances between the pits of hopelessness and nothing.

Lucius was breaking into a thousand pieces.

"Well," The Dark Lord started, "What a shame."

With head bowed, long blonde hair shook and his footing slipped. Hopelessness began rushing up all around.

Draco tore his eyes away from his sobbing father and looked into the eyes of his new master.

"What has he done?" Draco asked, taking another shaking drink of wine.

Lord Voldemort smiled, sat forward and folded his hands. For a few, agonizing seconds he just looked at Draco. Then, he spoke.

"Do you know what happens to little boys who close their minds to me?"

The Dark Lord flicked his wand hand and Draco screamed. The wine glass he held, shattered. Blood dripped down Draco's hand as he shook with pain. It splattered onto the white tablecloth as his mother reached out her hand. As suddenly as he had begun though, Lord Voldemort released him. Draco slumped in his chair, and Narcissa stood up to move around.

"Leave him." He said and she stopped. "He will be fine in a moment." His hand motioned. "You see?" He whispered as Draco stirred and lifted his head. "All better."

"Why?" Draco rasped.

"Though I commend you on your talent, you will never... shut your mind to me." Voldemort hissed, then looked at Narcissa. "Sit, witch."

Narcissa turned and sat back down.

"Your father," he began, "was given a task. A task which was going to win our war. It would have allowed you and your family to live as you all deserve. Your father failed his task."

Draco paused and brought up his bloody hand to take a shaking drink, only to discover the broken glass. He paused and looked. The blood continued to dribble onto the fabric.

"Come, child. No need to bleed everywhere." Voldemort said as he waved Draco over.

With unsteady legs, he stood. His chair came out and scraped unceremoniously across the floor. Bloody hand gripped the pristine table and slid off as he made his way around his lost father. The Dark Lord held out his wand and Draco put forward his hand. Wand waved slowly and soft words were uttered from a lipless mouth. The wounds quickly healed under a small pool of collected blood in the palm of his hand. Voldemort dipped a finger in and lifted it.

"You will take over where your father failed. You will go to school this term and you will find a way to let in a complement of Death Eaters, and you will kill Dumbledore." He lifted the bloody finger to his mouth and licked.

Draco pulled his hand back and the little pool dripped onto the floor.

"Kill…" Draco started.

Narcissa turned toward the Dark Lord.

"Please, My Lord. Do not make my son suffer for his father's deeds." She clutched the handkerchief in her hand as tears flowed unchecked down her face.

"Enough." He hissed, holding up his hand. He lowered it and turned to face Draco. "In your father's absence, are you not the man of the house?"

Draco stuttered. "Ye...yes, My Lord, but what absence?"

Voldemort looked toward the broken man whose head was laid out on the table.

"He seems fairly... absent to me." He said simply.

Draco fought back tears and bile. He swallowed over and over looking down at his father. He dare not look up at his mother. He knew his heart would break. Draco slowly looked back at the Dark Lord and lifted his bare arm as offering to his master.

"Today, you have shown our order, that you have stepped into your birthright." He spoke softly as he gripped Draco's hand and turned it. He held his wand aloft and hissed secret words under his breath. The flesh on Draco's inner forearm began to split open. He tried to jerk it back, but Voldemort held strong. The outline of the torn flesh was the skull and snake. Voldemort let go, and with his wand cut his own flesh. Blood welled and he grabbed Draco's arm, letting his own blood drain in. The boy's skin closed over and the dark mark appeared, sharply contrasting the almost ivory background. The young Malfoy's tears fell then, unbidden, mired in the pain of knowledge and in the knowledge of pain.

When it was over, The Dark Lord spoke.

"Your mother can soothe it for you tonight." He said as he examined his work. "It will hurt, but it will heal." Voldemort released Draco's arm. "Now… concerning your father." He looked at Lucius. "You may want to be upset with me Draco, but I assure you this is for his own good." He lifted his wand, closed his eyes and touched his temple with it.

Soon enough, a masked death eater strode into the room.

"Drop him at Azkaban's doorstep. I will contact The Inanimis." The Dark Lord commanded.

"My Lord…" Draco began. Voldemort held up his hand, silencing him. Lucius was dragged out a noncombatant.

"You see, Draco," He started, "Your father made a bargain with me." He stood and moved to the back of Lucius' empty seat. "I am a wizard who always honors a bargain. I was even called weak by a few of my peers at school. Once, a fellow student had the misfortune of comparing me to a Gryffindor." The Dark Lord paused and reminisced. "When your father didn't honor his side of the bargain, my hand could not be stayed. Would you like to hear what your father could not do?"

Draco looked up at Voldemort but didn't answer.

"He could not tell you what he had done. He could not tell you he failed the cause. His pride won out over you. He chose Azkaban over you." Voldemort laid his hand on Draco's shoulder and then the room dissolved.

Leaning back on Bella's head board, Draco fought the urge to be sick. She still lay in his arms, but now she was looking up at him.

"You alright?" She asked.

A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Draco said getting up and walking quickly to the loo.

Bellatrix got up and walked to the shut door.

"Do you want some water?" She called, breath hitting the stained wood.

"It's a bathroom, I've got water." She heard him call between heaves.

Bellatrix dropped her head and smiled.

"It's His blood, you know." She began. "His blood is in you. It makes you a bit ill, but it will pass."

"You call this a bit ill?" Draco groaned as he heaved.

Bellatrix turned and walked back toward the bed. She bent and picked up the discarded joint. With her wand, she re-lit it, took a deep hit and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her time at Azkaban never got any better. She was always The Inanimis' favorite. He tore her asunder and stitched her back together both in the physical world and his nightmare land too many times to count.

Bellatrix began to fidget.

She would not allow herself to go back there again. Instead, she commanded her thoughts to the Great Wizard who freed her. She had endured the torment and the black eyed beast because she knew he would return for her. The stormy night he blew open her cell wall and saved her from her fate. His most faithful. Now her nephew would see what a great wizard he was. Now he would know. She would take his lessons to a whole new plane. For the rest of the summer, she would nurture him. She would train him and teach him to fight for the Dark Lord. The Lord of Dreams and Possibilities….of Nightmares and Chaos. The Lord of Fear and Pain. In the end, it was His blood that flowed in them all.


End file.
